


Hold On

by zipzapzop33 (AnalRespiration)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Caretaking, F/M, Healing On Both Sides, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Sick Character, Things Go Better, alternate storyline, fun times, this might be trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25196095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnalRespiration/pseuds/zipzapzop33
Summary: After Woodbury falls, instead of finding Tara and Lilly Chambler. Things play out differently, but with similar results.





	Hold On

**Author's Note:**

> I thought it would be interesting to create an alternate storyline surrounding the aftermath of Woodbury's destruction! Maybe the prison doesn't have to fall, maybe it still falls but for different reasons. I had this idea and I couldn't get it out of my head, so I wrote it all down. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> *implied sex but no smut*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Governor reluctantly helps someone in need.

It was lost. All of his hard work had been reversed by one prick and his sheep-like followers. He thought Woodbury would be prepared when the time came to fight. Obviously, they hadn't done enough. He tried not to think about it, but there wasn't much to take his mind off it. Except, of course, trying not to die, but that had become easier and easier with every day he spent on the road. He wasn't surprised when he woke up to find that Martinez and the rest had taken off. He would have left himself behind if he could have. Hell, he's tried to. "The Governor" was definitely a stupid nickname, but he much preferred it to his true identity. That name carried too many tragic memories, too many regrets. After all, anyone who had called him by that name was dead now.

He stood in front of a dingy white wall covered in graffiti. Warnings, directions, obituaries. One name appeared more than the others: Brian Heriot. He said it softly to himself...he could be a Brian. Not that he was planning on introducing himself to new people anytime soon; he needed a break. Now he just wandered the streets, surviving on his own. He found that he preferred it that way: not having to worry about anyone else, especially children, only having to provide for himself. He spent nights in abandoned cars and convenience store offices, and he didn't carry anything except for a gun and a knife.

He stands next to the door of a mini-mart, his gun in his right hand and his knife in his left. He slowly opens the door, the ding of the bell likely to stir up any biters that may be hiding behind shelves. Sure enough, three corpses rise from their should-be final resting places and begin dragging themselves in his direction. He takes care of them as easily as if he was tying his shoes. He grabs what non-perishable food items are left and eats them on top of the check-out counter. He catches a glimpse of himself in a mirror on a makeup display and scowls, quickly shifting his eyes down and chucking his food into the shelves. He pushes himself up off the counter and steps outside the shop's door. He couldn't stand to look at himself, his one good eye a constant reminder of what was. Of Penny. Of Rick's group. Of Andrea. His resentment and despair overwhelms him and he crumbles to the ground. He sits back against the shop's door, eyes closed. He is ripped from his thoughts when he thinks he hears a voice. A faint, weak voice. 

He stands again, scanning his surroundings, straining to hear it again. He notices a few biters that had been drawn to the sound, which is coming from a small neighborhood. The site is far across the street from the store, but it's a straight shot. He decides to follow the rotting bodies to the source, hiding behind trees to allow a safe distance between him and the dead. He sees smoke, reasonably the source of the trouble. He isn't sure what he's going to do when he finds whoever he's about to find--he's not about to jump at the opportunity to weigh himself down with more people. However, a small part of him that he thought was dead had been awakened when he heard that voice cry out. He knew it belonged to a woman. She's likely alone, maybe she has been for some time. He knew he wouldn't be able to leave her for dead. The closer he gets, the more pieces of the puzzle he's able to put together. This was obviously a sweep gone sideways. The fire had spread from a wrecked car and is now devouring the trees and the small house a few dozen feet away. 

He sneaks around the growing crowd of biters and hides behind the house next-door. He knew there was no way he could make it without drawing unwanted attention to himself. He quietly takes down a few dead ones, and uses a body to cover himself as he makes his way to the burning building. He hasn't heard the voice in a while, and figures he might be too late. He was frustrated that he had put himself into harm's way for nothing. That's when he hears it again: a broken voice, pleading. He kicks down the door to the house, weapons at the ready. The south end of the house was being slowly destroyed by the flames. 

"Is someone here?"

The sound of his own voice nearly startles him. It had been so long since he'd had a reason to use it.

"Yes! Please! I'm upstairs! Please, hurry!"

Of course she's upstairs. Of course this couldn't have been an easy mission. But he knew that when he saw the fire. He takes a deep breath of clean air and climbs the staircase. Several steps crumble under his weight. He tries to grab the railing to stable himself, but lets go--nearly falling--after his skin screams at the extreme heat. That will definitely hurt when the adrenaline runs out.

"Here! Right at the top!"

He moves up the rest of the steps as fast as he can, trying to step as lightly as possible. At the top, he is greeted by a handful of flaming biters. He takes each one down without a thought, but that does nothing to extinguish the flames. Here he stands, in a ring of burning bodies, her knight in shining armor. He doesn't have time to think much as bits of the house come down around them. He lifts the woman off of the bureau that had kept her high out of death's grip. He hands her his weapons so they'll be accessible. He swings her legs over one arm and cradles her torso with the other. He quickly turns to approach the top of the stairs, but they're in even worse shape than when he made his way up. He curses to himself and scrambles to find another way out.

"The window!" 

The woman in his arms points to a room across the hall with a large window that led to the roof. He puts her down and opens the window, pulling himself out to the other side. He reaches out and helps her onto the roof with him. They hear a whoosh and some crackling as even more of the house crumbles behind them. The top half of the structure is starting to lean backwards, threatening to fall right into the abyss. They nearly lose their balance--and their lives--as it teeters. He peers over the edge of the roof and decides he'll be able to climb down--or, at least, fall carefully.

"Just wait. Don't be afraid. I'm not leaving you here."

He swings himself over the gutter and finds his footing on the porch railing. At this point, he figures he can let himself drop. He's only in the air for a second before he lands on his side with a heavy thud. He quickly jumps to his feet, wincing, and holds his arms out.

"Okay, now you! We don't have much time, you're gonna have to trust me."

She doesn't need that much convincing. She's weak, maybe even sick, and can't afford to lose this opportunity to get help. She closes her eyes, cannonballs off the roof, and lands clumsily into his arms. They stand for a moment and watch the building crash to the ground. Another moment passes before he realizes there is now no barrier between them and the dead--and the dead had realized this first. He lowers her to the ground, but it's obvious that she won't be able to run. He scoops her up for the third time and runs for the mini-mart. He knows it's probably a stupid idea to hole up; the biters would just follow them, but it's far enough away that they should have some time to catch their breath before they have to fight their way out.

He's grateful for the push door as he collides with the glass and steel. It bangs open, angrily jingling as he gently unloads the woman onto the counter. She places his weapons down next to her. He pushes shelves and anything else that moves in front of the door, in case they wouldn't be able to leave in time. Finally, he's able to slow down and process the situation. He slowly turned around and looked at the woman he just rescued. Gorgeous dark hair, deep green eyes, and a heavenly smile. All of this surrounded by a malnourished, sweaty, sickly pale frame. He knows she's taking in the sight before her as well. He finds himself smiling right along with her, almost like a reflex. He had almost forgotten that was something he could do.

"Thank you for doing that. I don't even know how long I was in there. Days. Maybe even a week. It only caught fire today."

"Well, what were you waiting for?"

"Apparently, you. Caroline." She holds her hand out to him.

"Brian." He returns the favor, taking her dainty hand in his strong grasp.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this is headed but I'm hoping it'll be long. Leave comments, feedback, and/or kudos if you feel so inclined!


End file.
